


that would be enough.

by liibrorum



Series: perks of obsession. ( jake & dwight. ) [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, post-escape au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 06:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19312660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liibrorum/pseuds/liibrorum
Summary: dwight doesn't need a legacy, and he sure as hell doesn't need answers.





	that would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> please remember that i like money just about as much as you all like my work. any and all ko-fi's go to paying my rent as well as my multiple medical bills that i accumulate throughout the year: http://www.ko-fi.com/motherconjurer. if you don't wish to use ko-fi, you can leave me a tip with cashapp @ $motherconjurer. : )
> 
> this series is dedicated to my friend cap, because she keeps giving me a whole bunch of tasty parkfield ideas. part 3 of this series is gonna be a bit spicier than the rest of these, so i hope you enjoy.

The desk lamp has been lit all night, and Dwight’s not sure if it’s because he’s forgotten to turn it off or if it’s because Jake is hitting the midnight oil again. As he rouses from his slumber, rolling over and eyes bleary, he reaches out for the other person that’s supposed to be in bed with him, and frowns when he finds only empty space. Groaning, he reaches up and out for his glasses on the nightstand next to him, and rolls his shoulders as he rises from their bed. 

Midnight lamp ever-lit, Dwight approaches the desk half-asleep, his hands finding the shoulders of the other. His hands are softer than Jake’s, but they’re warmer— the hands of a leader, a supervisor, a teacher. As his eyes begin to adjust to the light generated from Jake’s laptop and the desklamp, his lips find the survivalist’s cheek, pressing a gentle and kind kiss to his lover’s skin. “Time for bed,” he chastises Jake, reaching forward to close the other’s laptop.

Jake’s hand stops his mid-reach, swatting it away from the screen. Offended, Dwight recoils and pulls away from Jake completely. Now getting a good look at the other’s face, Dwight is shocked to find the other is still in his day-clothes— a pair of jeans and a dirty green top—hyper-focused on whatever he was looking at on the computer. Underneath his hand at the desk is Alex’s journal, covered in blue and pink sticky-notes so he could take notes without marking in the journal itself. Frowning, Jake turns his head away from Dwight as if he’s an animal that’s been kicked, and Dwight’s arms cross over his chest. (He’s never been the type to go bare-chested after they left the trials; the scar is a weight his heart is unable to bear the sight of just yet. People like David, however, have been able to go just fine. Dwight envies them. Jake is sickened by them.)

“What did you do that for?” Dwight asks, looking down at Jake— not offended, just disappointed. The swat Jake had given him didn’t even connect, otherwise they’d be having a different conversation right now. There’s a sigh, and Jake runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the fluffy brown locks that seemed to stand up on end due to its unruly nature. 

“Didn’t mean to,” Jake replies but doesn’t seem to remove himself from his work. He scowls underneath the low light, and Dwight steps back, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His ankles cross underneath him, the toes of his grey socks pointed down into the carpet. He looks as though he’s wanting to say something— but finds no words. There’s a long pause as Jake scribbles something down on paper, biting his lip as he rubs his eyes. “M’sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology,” Dwight sighs, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. He stares holes into the back of Jake’s head, hoping silently that the other will turn around and face him. “I want changed behavior.”

“What’s there to change, Dwight?!” Jake asks, turning around in the office chair and looking at him. Dwight frowns at him, looking down the other’s stare and sighing. Those eyes, once so serene and hopeful, are stressed and tired. He closes his own eyes, brow furrowing behind his glasses. Desperately trying to stay calm, Dwight’s hands ache for answers— he doesn’t want to  _ fix  _ Jake, but he does want to  _ help.  _ Sighing a dramatic noise, Dwight stands and paces a circle in order to bring himself to tranquility again. 

“This,” Dwight frowns, approaching Jake’s desk and closing Alex’s journal. Without Jake’s reflexes kicking in, Dwight closes the journal and holds it in his hands, turning it over to show the survivalist the cover. “This is what I want you to change. This is an  _ obsession,  _ Jake, and you’re losing your fucking mind over it daily.” His voice is stained with hurt as he looks the other over, tears welling in his eyes. “It’s hurting you, and you’re the only person who doesn’t see that.”

“I’m  _ fine. _ ” Jake rises to his feet, just barely meeting Dwight’s height. An inch shorter, Jake’s forehead presses against Dwight’s— the look they share is a mixture of desperate and antagonistic. As Jake’s hand rises to meet his lover’s cheek, Dwight pulls away, frowning and irritated. His tongue runs along his lips, and he gathers some strength to find something coherent to say.

Dwight rolls his shoulders back, tossing the journal down onto the green comforter of their bed, his hands thrown up in frustration. “We made out alive!” He exclaims, voice desperate as he stares his boyfriend down. Hands shake as they’re thrown up next to his head, looking for an answer to his problem but finding none. “Whether or not you like how we did it, Jake, we  _ beat  _ the Entity. We’re  _ okay,  _ now. I don’t understand why that’s not enough for you. We’re alive.”

Jake stares up at the other, his brow furrowing as Dwight’s desperation is prominent in his face, in his hands, in his  _ essence.  _ It doesn’t take the spirit of Kindred to know that he is hurting— that Jake has caused him to hurt. Quietly, Jake reaches up for the other’s face, and when calloused hands meet recently-shaved cheeks, greens meet blues and Dwight sighs behind his fogged glasses. There’s a moment of silence between the two of them as Dwight’s voice is lost and Jake chooses his actions over his words. Their foreheads touch— gentler this time. The touch of boyfriends, the touch of lovers, the touch of survivors. 

Their lips meet, noses bumping and breath shaking between their bodies. “I’m sorry,” Jake repeats, his lips brushing against the other’s as he speaks. The voice that leaves his mouth is shuddering and breathless, scared of the unknown. He knows that it is now or never; if he doesn’t change, Dwight is gone. And he cannot bear to have Dwight leave. The world around them is ugly and horrid, breathless and confined, and yet— Dwight Fairfield is beautiful. Dwight Fairfield brings in light where other things cannot: he is the first person to enter Jake Park’s life and remind him of his humanity. That they are more than just shuddering objects in the expanse clinging to life, that they are individuals with lives and interconnecting destinies. Their noses bump again; their lips meet again.

“Time for bed,” Dwight whispers, and this time— Jake agrees.


End file.
